


Iconoclasm

by robinwritesallthefanfiction



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Caretaking, Character Development, Comfort, Confessions, Driving, F/M, Forehead Touching, Getting to Know Each Other, Healing, Holding Hands, Lost Love, Memories, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Second Chances, Sleeping Together, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swearing, Touching, Undressing, Undressing Each Other, Wearing Jason's Clothes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthefanfiction/pseuds/robinwritesallthefanfiction
Summary: Jason Crouse is lost after his relationship with Alicia Florrick ends. Can anything bring him back from the edge?





	1. Haunted

He woke in the early hours of the morning, drenched in cold sweat and trembling because of the nightmare. It had been months since he had last spoken to Alicia, but he couldn’t get her out of his head.

_Wait for me_ , she had said. And then nothing. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what had gone wrong. She loved a dead man more than him. It was destined to go wrong from the start.

He had broken his own rules. Simple. No complications. And it had burned him, just like he should have known it would. He had tried to forget her. He had tried so damn hard. He did fine when he was awake, but when he was asleep and his subconscious took over, it was a very different story.

In his head, she had become something sacred, something untouchable, a bright, brilliant religious icon that he was bound to pray to every time his mind opened the doors of the temple. Saint Alicia. People had called her that once. They had laughed about it while tangled up in her sheets. The sound that abruptly escaped him was half laugh, half sob. What a cruel joke. He would have given anything to scrub those memories away.

Her last words to him about their romance had become his mantra.

_Wait for me._

_Wait for me._

_Wait for me._

Suddenly, he was irrationally angry. He ripped his alarm clock off the nightstand, pulling the cord out of the wall and throwing it at the dresser. It broke the mirror with a resounding smash, but he wasn’t satisfied.

Not in the least.

He slipped out of bed, leaning down to retrieve the alarm clock from the floor. His hand brushed against a large shard of glass and he hissed as it sliced open the side of his palm. He sighed, stepping into the bathroom before any blood could drip onto the carpet. He opened his medicine cabinet, grabbing a roll of gauze and clumsily bandaging himself. He knew he should go to the ER; he probably needed stitches. But the dull throb distracted him from his thoughts, so he just couldn’t bring himself to care enough beyond that. 

He moved back into the bedroom and slipped some clothes on. He wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, so he might as well work. The university library was open all night, and he could get coffee there.

Her words followed him out the door, an endless litany whispered on every breath he took.

_Wait for me._


	2. Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets a curious woman who makes him want to try again, but he's not sure he knows how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some edits to Chapter One because I left out a pretty important detail, so you may want to give it another quick look if you read it when it was first posted.

The library was mostly deserted, which wasn’t surprising at this hour. After grabbing coffee from the cart at the front entrance, he went up to the third floor, away from all the undergraduates hurriedly working on papers due early the next day. He was clumsy as he extracted his laptop from his bag due to his bandaged hand. He got it halfway out and then huffed in frustration, talking a sip of his coffee.

He instantly coughed. “Shit, that is awful!” he exclaimed loudly, looking at the cup with a grimace on his face. He was surprised when he heard a pleasant laugh coming from his right.

He turned his head to gaze at the woman who had seemingly materialized out of thin air beside him. Normally he was far more observant. The nightmares and the resulting lack of sleep must be getting to him more than he thought.

She was still smiling at him, but her smile twitched as he didn’t answer her laugh and just continued to stare. “I’m sorry I laughed,” she apologized, looking down at her book shyly, her pale cheeks turning pink.

He grimaced again. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. “No, I’m sorry,” he responded, curiously pleased when she looked back up at him, her smile returning. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“I was falling asleep anyway,” she admitted. He noticed that she had a beautiful smile. “I’m glad for the distraction.” She nodded at his coffee cup. “From the cart downstairs?” she asked, and he nodded. “That’s what I thought. They only brew the regular coffee when they need it, so it sits all night. Nobody in the know orders it. Always get the espresso. They brew that fresh.”

He tilted his head, surprised to feel himself smiling back at her. When was the last time he had really wanted to smile at somebody? “Thanks for the tip,” he answered. After a moment of hesitation, he added, “I’m Jason. Jason Crouse.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jason Crouse. I’m Robin Ballard.” Her smile vanished as her eyes wandered to his hand. “Did you know that your hand is bleeding, Jason?” He glanced down at it as she reached into the bag sitting on the chair beside her to grab something. His blood had soaked through the gauze. Not a good sign.

“Shit,” he said again, cringing internally. He didn’t usually swear this much. His eyes wandered back to Robin as she stood, walking over to him.

She was shorter than he had imagined, just a little over five feet, he guessed. She was dressed simply, comfortably, in form-fitting black yoga pants and a forest green cowl-necked tunic sweater. She was very curvy, and slightly heavyset; he knew that some would say she was too large, but he didn’t think so. She pulled out a chair so she could sit down next to him, tentatively touching the bandage on his hand. “May I?” she asked.

He nodded, oddly captivated by her large brown eyes and prominent cheekbones. She set a first aid kit on the table and carefully peeled back his bandage. She gasped, but didn’t pull away, holding the gauze around his hand so he wouldn’t bleed on the table as she began to clean and dress his wound. “Jason, I think you need stitches,” she said, and he nodded.

“I know.” She gazed at him curiously as she rewrapped his hand. He couldn’t remember the last time a person had touched him so gently or kindly. It felt good. “Tell me about you.” He spoke quietly, just wanting to keep hearing the sound of her voice.

“Me?” she asked, carefully securing his new bandage. She continued holding his hand in hers even after she was done and he bent his fingers a little, brushing her palm. “There’s not much to tell, I suppose. I’m a graduate student here. I’m getting my PhD in Romantic literature. Right now, I’m studying for my tests, so I basically live here. I also teach undergraduate classes. Composition, introduction to literature, anything that the real professors don’t want, you know?”

He laughed a little. So she was smart, he guessed. And the kindness, the willingness to care for someone she hardly knew, that must come from her profession. She was naturally nurturing, it seemed. “I bet you’re a good teacher,” he said, flashing her another smile, his dimples on full display. Her cheeks flushed again; he found the effect very pleasing.

“That’s kind of you,” she said breathily, unable to keep the smile off of her face. She hesitated for a moment and then said, “You should get your hand looked at, Jason. How did you do this?”

A pang in his chest accompanied the painful memory.

_How’d you do that?_

_Killed a man._

_Ah, on the job?_

_No, just in traffic. He moved too slow._

Jason shook his head minutely, trying to banish the thought. “Jason, are you all right?” Robin’s voice washed over him, and her hand touched his shoulder.

“Just a little light-headed,” he assured her. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He realized that he hadn’t answered her question and tried to come up with something clever. Instead, he found himself simply telling her the truth. “I threw my alarm clock at my dresser mirror after having a nightmare. When I went to pick it up, I cut my hand on the glass.”

“Wait right here,” Robin said, standing and going back to her table, packing up her things. She brought her bag over to his table, reaching over him and packing up his things as well. After slipping both bags over her shoulder, she held out her hand to him. “Come on,” she urged.

Confused, he reached up, grasping her hand with his good one. “What are we doing?” he asked.

“Taking you to the ER, of course. Do you have a car here?” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “You’re tall,” she observed, and he laughed.

“I am,” he agreed. “My truck is in the parking lot.” He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to stay with her. He shifted to offer her his arm. “Shall we?” They walked down the stairs in companionable silence. Once they got outside, she moved a little closer to him because of the chill in the air. “I can carry my own bag, you know,” he said playfully.

“You are injured,” she answered back just as playfully, though a quick glance at her revealed that she was blushing again. “You’re not doing anything until you get that hand stitched up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, shocked at the lightness in his voice. He was used to flirting for his job, but now he was genuinely flirting. He hadn’t done that since, well… Alicia. The thought sobered him for a moment, but something deep inside him prodded him back into speaking. He had to move on. He deserved to move on. Didn’t he?

“Here it is,” he said, stopping in front of a dark blue pick-up truck in the mostly empty parking lot. He’d parked under a light. Robin turned to him expectantly, holding out her hand. “What?” he asked.

“Your keys,” she said. “Give them to me.”

He laughed. “I can drive, Robin,” he said seriously. Her lips parted as she stared at him, and she lost her resolve for a second. She didn’t want to admit how much she liked the sound of her name on his lips. She looked away from him for a moment to regain her composure.

“Jason, you said you were light-headed,” she admonished him. “You are not driving, and the hospital isn’t far.” She glanced at his truck doubtfully. “Unless it’s a stick,” she added. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s not a stick,” he answered, fishing his keys out of his pocket and handing them to her. “There you go.” She moved to the driver’s side door, unlocking it and sliding into the seat, depositing the bags beside her. Jason slid into the passenger seat, eyeing her carefully. “Are you all right?” he asked carefully. “You look a little… squirrely.”

She started the car and carefully backed out of the spot where he’d parked. “I just hate driving,” she admitted. “I haven’t had a car in years. But don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” He smiled and looked down, fiddling with the bandage on his hand. It really was starting to hurt now. He distracted himself by watching her while she drove. Looking at her profile, he realized that she had a cute nose; there was a little swoop at the end that he wanted to run his finger over.

“Why Romantic literature?” he asked quietly, not wanting to startle her. She waited until she’d turned into the hospital parking lot before responding.

“Well, I suppose the easy answer would be that I’ve always been a fan of the Romantic authors. Jane Austen, the Gothic, all of the great poetry. But I think it’s more because of the subject matter they were interested in. They wanted to explore thoughts and feelings and how the mind works, before psychology was even a concept. They weren’t afraid to confront the darkness inside themselves. The forbidden desires, the loneliness. You know, all the things that make us who we are that we’re afraid to talk about.” She got out of the car, coming around to meet him and giving him his keys back. “I don’t have any pockets,” she told him, and he smiled, putting his arm around her shoulders and steering her toward the hospital doors.

“It isn’t depressing?” He continued his line of questioning. “All of the darkness?”

She smiled. “It can be. But I suppose it makes me forget about my loneliness. My own… darkness.” She trailed off as they reached the counter. He was curious, but he doesn’t press her because she seemed uncomfortable. He turned his attention to the nurse behind the desk, who directed them to an exam room. As they sit down, her smile comes back. “How is your hand feeling?”

“It hurts,” he admitted. “Thanks for bringing me here.” She nodded, taking his good hand between both of hers. He hesitated, but then pressed on. “Why did you bring me here? I mean… I could have gotten here myself. You don’t even know me.”

She blushed again. “You’re right. I don’t. But you seemed… lonely. I felt like you wanted someone to talk to, even though you didn’t say that. I’m kind of an expert on being alone, so I guess it’s easy for me to recognize in other people too.” She stopped, biting her lip and looking up into his warm hazel eyes. She seemed like she wanted to say more, but thinks better of it. “Sorry,” she apologized. “That was probably too much information. I don’t get to talk to people a lot, so when I do, I tend to overshare.”

He smiled, lifting his injured hand and brushing his fingertips over her cheekbone, memorizing the shape of it. “You had more to say,” he observed. “Say it. Please.”

Her lips twitched, and she smiled. “I’m not a very adventurous person, Jason. Growing up, I had a lot of responsibility fall in my lap, so I became a model of accountability. I got good grades, I never came home late, I didn’t drink or do drugs. I wouldn’t even sneak into an R-rated movie when my friends wanted to because I was too scared of getting caught. I’ve been… hiding from my own life, in a way, because I’m scared of being hurt. I guess I’m just tired of hiding. So I took a chance and talked to you.” She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but he could see that she’d just revealed something to him that she didn’t reveal to many people.

The doctor walked in at that moment and they both stopped talking. Jason laid his hand back down on the exam table and answered the questions the doctor asked. He barely looked at the doctor while they talked; instead, his eyes stayed on Robin. She didn’t let go of his other hand, and he squeezed hers reassuringly. He didn’t want her to let go. It was a strange feeling.

“Well, Jason,” the doctor said genially, “you definitely need some stitches, but we can take care of that quickly. Your wound is cleaned and dressed well, so that helps.” He smiled, his eyes flicking to the doctor and then back to Robin.

“You have her to thank for that,” he said. Robin swallowed and smiled nervously. His voice was deep and gravelly, and it made her stomach flutter. He winced as the doctor got his hand ready. Robin looked at him worriedly.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “I don’t like pain,” he answered. Instantly, there was another pang in his chest. Right. He didn’t like pain, yet he’d gotten himself involved with a woman who could only hurt him. He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he just stared at Robin, trying to lose himself in her eyes. She stared back. He could feel her hands trembling a little, but she didn’t look away, and she didn’t let go.

“All right, Jason, we’re all done with this,” the doctor said, breaking into the moment. “I’m going to wrap it so the stitches are protected, and give you a prescription for some painkillers and some antibiotics, just to be safe. Take the first dose of each now. And you shouldn’t drive home.”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safely,” Robin chimed in, and Jason dipped his head, smiling at her. As the doctor left to get the wrap and the medications, he resumed their former conversation.

“How did you get so good at reading people?” he asked. It was something that he found not everyone was good at.

She thought about it for a minute before answering. “Well, it’s something I’ve always been good at, I guess. I usually pick up on how people are feeling. And being a teacher has made me better at it. You learn pretty quickly how to tell when a student is lying, or maybe having problems that they aren’t telling you about. It helps me ask the right questions so I can help them.” She paused. “How did you get so good at it?”

Jason laughed. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been reading me all night. You’ve known exactly what I’ve wanted to talk about each step of the way. You know how to read people too. Better than I do, I think.” She smiled at him as the doctor came back.

“Can I show you how to wrap this?” she asked, gesturing to Robin. “He might need to wear it for more than a day.”

Robin looked at Jason briefly and he nodded subtly. “Yes, you can show me.” He concentrated on her fingers brushing over his skin as she focused her attention on the doctor for a moment.

“All right, that should be good. You’re all set. Take care of that hand, Jason.”

“I will, doc. Thanks.” He stood, offering Robin his arm again. She took it, leaning into him as they walked back to his truck. He gave her his keys with no argument this time and they got back in the car.

“Where do you live?” she asked. He told her, leaning his head back against the seat and just watching her again as she drove. As she pulled into the parking lot for his building, he answered her question from before.

“I’m a private investigator,” he said. “That’s how I’m so good at reading people.” He grabbed the bags this time, raising his eyebrow at her as she tried to protest. He put his arm around her, his long fingers reaching down over her shoulder to show her which key was the key to his apartment.

“A private investigator, huh?” she asked. “I thought those only existed in movies and television shows.” When he glanced down at her, she was smiling up at him teasingly. He smirked, his hand falling to the small of her back as she opened the door and they moved inside. He glanced around, realizing that the apartment was a bit of a mess.

“Sorry about the mess,” he apologized. “I’ve been… pre-occupied lately.” He frowned. Was his whole life falling apart thanks to Alicia? He had to get a handle on himself. He set their bags down on the kitchen table and shed his beat up leather jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair. “I work mostly for law firms who need information for cases. It’s more lucrative than it sounds, and I have a lot of freedom.”

“It sounds like it could be a lot of fun,” she admitted. “Kind of like being a detective, right? I always wanted to be Nancy Drew when I grew up.” He smiled at her, and she looked around. “Where’s your bedroom?” she asked. He raised his eyebrow at her teasingly and she blushed. “So I can clean up the glass that cut you,” she scolded, wagging her finger at him.

He nodded, pointing his head toward his bedroom door. “This way.”

He sat on the bed at her request, watching her as she carefully picked up the biggest pieces of glass and then vacuumed the carpet to make sure there wasn’t any left. He got tired as he watched her as the painkillers kicked in and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“All done,” she said, sitting down next to him. “You should sleep. You look tired.”

He smiled at her. “I’m an insomniac by nature, and lately when I sleep, I have nightmares.” She looked at him pointedly and he lifted his hand to touch her face. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t talked to anyone about Alicia since everything had happened. Maybe it was the sweet, kind, sincere look on her face. Whatever it was, he suddenly found himself confessing.

“Robin, I was… involved with a woman several months ago. Alicia Florrick.” He saw her eyebrows raise just a bit, so he knew that she recognized the name. “Obviously, you know who she is, so you can see how it wasn’t a good idea on my part. But I wanted her. It didn’t end well, and I haven’t been right since.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his head fuzzy. The painkillers were kicking in.

“Why are you telling me?” she asked, reaching up and touching his face.

His voice was pained as he responded. “I just want you to know what you’re getting into. I won’t blame you if you want to leave.”

Her hand caressed his hair and he leaned into her touch. He didn’t open his eyes, afraid of what he would see if he did. She was soft and warm and sweet, and he knew he didn’t deserve her. And she was smart, which meant that she would probably run.

“So we’re both fucked up,” she answered, and his eyes snapped open. She was smiling at him again, and for the first time, he noticed that though her smile was wide and bright and genuine, her eyes were wounded, just like his. “If you’re trying to push me away, it won’t work. I told you, I’m tired of hiding from my life. But it’s not just my decision. If you really want me to go, I will.”

“Don’t go,” he said softly. “Please.” She smiled, standing and pulling him up.

“Let’s get you ready for bed,” she said. He nodded, slowly slipping off his shoes and jeans, running his hands through his hair and watching as she peeled her yoga pants down. Her legs were shapely, and his eyes traced them as she folded her pants and came over to set them on his dresser.

“You should hang your sweater up,” he said, coming up behind her and running his hands down her arms. “I’ll give you something to sleep in.” She nodded, her breathing heavy. His fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater where it rested on her thighs, and he dragged it up slowly, taking his time to feel the curves of her body and the softness of her skin. She shakily raised her arms so he could pull the sweater over her head.

He laid the sweater on the dresser, dropping his nose to her shoulder and running it over her skin and up to her neck until it was buried in her soft brown hair. He was careful not to let his lips touch her, but he did let his hands massage her shoulders briefly before running his fingers down her spine. She shivered as his fingers grazed the clasp of her bra, and then he pulled away. He could see that she was very self-conscious, and he didn’t want to push her. If he was being entirely honest, he didn’t want to push himself either.

Jason pulled open a drawer, grabbing a worn olive green t-shirt and handing it to her. “Here,” he said, his voice deep and ragged. He grabbed her sweater and moved to the closet, turning his back as he hung it up to give her some privacy. When he turned around, her bra was sitting on top of the dresser and she had the t-shirt on. It was a little tight across her chest, but seemed to fit well otherwise. “Comfortable?” he asked. She nodded. He crawled into his bed, slipping between the covers and holding out his hand to her. “Sleep next to me?” he asked uncertainly. She nodded again, reaching up to unpin her hair and letting it fall over her shoulders and cascade down her back. “I didn’t realize your hair was so long,” he observed as she took his hand and joined him in the bed.

“I like it out of my way,” she answered as he ran his hand through it, rubbing the strands between his fingers. He let the hand drop to her waist, pulling her against him and laying back on his pillows. She curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. “Is this okay?” she asked tentatively.

“It’s better than okay,” he answered. “It’s nice.” He felt her relax a little at his words and he ran his hand through her hair again. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” she responded, and then they slipped into silence, both lulled to sleep by the other’s presence.

He woke once, several hours later, sitting up in shock as the nightmare dissipated. For a moment, he didn’t even realize that she was still in his arms, that he had pulled her up with him. Then her hands were on his face and in his hair, and she was soothing him. “Shh, Jason, shh, it’s okay. It’s not real. Look at me. Look at me. Shh, shh.”

He looked down and into her eyes, panicked, his hand coming up to cup her face. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“No, Jason, no, you didn’t. Just breathe. It’s over now.” He leaned down, resting his forehead on hers.

“It feels like it will never be over,” he admitted, his voice raw.

“It probably feels like that, but most things end eventually,” she said. “Or at the very least, they fade with time. You asked me to stay, so you must feel some hope that things could change.”

A pang in his chest again. Something he’d said to Alicia. It had been about work, not romance, but…

_Hey, I’m a big believer in second chances._

He laughed briefly as he remembered. “I told her once that I was a big believer in second chances,” he said, tipping Robin’s chin up and brushing his nose over hers. “Maybe I still am.”

She gently urged him back down onto the bed, and he relaxed into the mattress, both of his arms tight around her. “I think a second chance sounds nice,” she said. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, you need a second chance at sleep.”

He chuckled. “Okay.” 

And surprisingly, though he had never managed to fall back asleep after a nightmare before, this time it came easily.


End file.
